


A Study in Sherlock What Are You Doing Potions Can Be Dangerous Please Stop That

by songofsunset



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Gen, Hufflepuff!John, Potions, Slytherin!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:17:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofsunset/pseuds/songofsunset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets asked to tutor a Slytherin problem student.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study in Sherlock What Are You Doing Potions Can Be Dangerous Please Stop That

**Author's Note:**

> I found a bit of a Sherlock Hogwarts AU I wrote a bit back! I actually rather enjoy it, so I guess I’ll share it :)
> 
> It features Hufflepuff!John and Slytherin!Sherlock, though I’ve since decided that John would be a Gryffindor and Sherlock would be a Ravenclaw, so this isn’t very likely to be continued :P

The Hogwarts Library was unusually crowded for a Sunday afternoon.

John figured it was only to be expected, what with the impending OWLs and all, but it would still have been nice if things were just a bit calmer. John sighed, and turned the page, trying to remember the difference between an engorgement charm and an enlargement charm, and not having much success.

“John Watson?”

John looked up from his spell books. He blinked, surprised to find Professor Sprout leaning over the table, hands clasped expectantly, looking rather out of place in her shawl and muddy sunhat.

“Yes, professor?”

“Thank goodness you’re here, John, I need to ask a favor of you.”

John smiled politely. Honestly, where else would he be? Whenever he said anything like that, however, people laughed, and told him he should have been in Ravenclaw, instead of Hufflepuff. Professor Sprout had been in Hufflepuff, though. She understood.

“What do you need, Professor? Is something the matter?”

“No, no, nothing, like that”, she said, flapping her hands at him. “There’s a student the teachers have been… having trouble with, and I wondered if you would help me tutor him for a little bit.”

“Wouldn’t someone from Ravenclaw be better, professor?”

“They tried.” Professor Sprout said, clasping her hands and smiling weakly. “He’s rather a difficult case.”

~~~~~

Smoke billowed out of the potions room. It was one of the unused ones, usually reserved for some advanced class or another. John had never been down here before. Wandering the dungeons wasn’t really his thing, and from the looks of it, he wasn’t about to change his mind.

“Professor”, said John, glancing over, then looking incredulously at the smoke, which seemed to be turning a virulent shade of pink. “Who exactly is this student?”

Professor Sprout coughed. “Well” she said. “Go on in and get acquainted. I won’t stay and bother you. I’m counting on you, John!” 

And without another word, she swept down the hallway, and was gone before John could say anything.

He shook his head, and then turned to the doorway. The smoke was shading down towards a reddish brown. John gulped. It looked rather a lot like blood.

“Might as well get this over with”, he muttered, and strode into the classroom.

~~~~~

John wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t this. A tall figure leaned over a microscope, no less than five cauldrons scattered down the length of the table, steaming over a rainbow of flames. Jars full of ingredients John had never even seen before loomed in easy reach of the mysterious student.

As John watched, the student muttered, than added a dash of some leaf or another to the nearest cauldron. The student watched for a moment as the potion began to boil, releasing multi-colored bubbles, then used a pipette to add a drop of the potion to a small dish, which began fizzing violently. Unperturbed, the student turned back to the microscope, staring intently.

John waited for a moment, then took a breath, about to speak.

“Your wand.” The student interrupted, not taking his eyes off the microscope.

“I- Sorry?” John said.

“Hand me your wand. I need to use it”. The student snapped his hand out impatiently.

John looked around nervously. The fires cast strange shadows in the dusty classroom. Wasn’t there a teacher here? Shouldn’t someone be supervising this madness?

“Where’s yours?”

“I don’t have it.” The student replied. “Hurry now, I don’t have all day.”

John pulled his wand out of his pocket. If this weirdo tried anything, John reasoned, warily drawing closer to the chaos that was the potions table, he could always tackle the guy and get his wand back before it got out of hand.

“Here” said John putting the wand into the outstretched hand. “Be careful with it.” This is mad, he thought. What am I doing?

“Excellent” the student said, then purposefully jabbed the wand at the potion fizzing in the dish. There was a small “bang”, and room began smelling strongly of sulfur. 

He added a sprinkle of a brown powder to the dish and nodded like he was satisfied with something, though for once, there was no visible change. Then he turned to John, glanced him over briefly, and met his eyes.

The student really was quite tall, with dark curly hair, and an imperious air. There was a scarf draped across a chair in the corner that was, unsurprisingly, striped with Slytherin green and silver.

“I’m free Monday and Wednesday before lunch,” the student said, “and generally free in the evenings, though we’ll have to work around the scheduling of Hufflepuff Quidditch practices, I see. A pity that cute chaser already has a boyfriend. Two, in fact.” The student smirked.

“Now wait a-” John said, but the student continued as though John hadn’t said a thing.

“I’ll meet you in this room as soon as you’re done at the library tomorrow evening, plenty of time for you to get that essay done, and do try not to be late, you have a long way to go to get back to your common room and we don’t want you to get your first ever detention, now do we?” 

“I’m sorry.” said John, shaking his head, “Have you been stalking me?”

“Of course not,” Sherlock said. “Why would I ever do that?”

“But, you’re a Slytherin.” John said.

Sherlock blinked. “Obviously” he drawled, as though he were dealing with someone who was very, very, slow.

John bristled. “Well, how would you possibly know I’ve been attending Quidditch practice? Or the redhead! You aren’t even supposed to know where our common room is, for goodness sakes!”

“Of course no one told me. Isn’t it obvious?” Sherlock asked.

John crossed his arms and cocked his head.

Sherlock took a breath. “Look at you. You’re a Hufflepuff, maybe fourth year by height but those books say advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts which puts you in fifth year.”

John stood a little straighter. “I’m not-“

“Preparing for your OWLs, then, so am I, the teachers have been trying for months to get me to prepare, they tried a Ravenclaw tutor, she gave up, so did the one before. They wouldn’t try a Slytherin, too selfish, and a Gryffindor would be absurd with this rivalry, so clearly a Hufflepuff is the only option, meaning you. You’re here because Professor Sprout asked you to tutor me; good luck with that, I don’t tutor easily.” Sherlock smiled coldly.

“There’s mud on your wand from the path down to the pitch. Three days ago the Hufflepuff team practiced in the rain, made quite a scene of it, actually. You aren’t on the team, but if you showed up it the rain, why would you do that? You wouldn’t attend the first time in those conditions; clearly it’s a regular thing, why? A girl, of course. Maybe a guy, but not with hair like that, you didn’t brush it this morning, a girl, then, the only attractive girl on the team is the redhead. Gossip accounts for her love life, confirmed by her jewlery, gifts from her suitors. She switches earrings so the boys won’t see her wearing someone else’s gift, but wears theirs to keep them happy and extend the charade.

“You have a roll of parchment in your bag, quite a large one by the look of it, but there’s no ink-stains on your hand. Lots of books in your bag. Planning to write something long but you haven’t begun yet. An essay, then, and your preparation says that you don’t plan to put it off. You’ll finish in plenty of time, not the sort to go picking up detentions.

John realized his mouth had drifted open, and closed it with a gulp. “What about the common room?”

“The Hufflepuffs always seem to go picking up extra food. Clearly you’re somewhere by the kitchens, quite a ways from here, with all the passages and staircases involved. Obvious.”

“That’s incredible.” John said.

“Really? And here I was hoping that you’d be like the others and give up on this tutoring nonsense straight away.”

“Well,” said John, “I don’t think you’ll be rid of me that easily. The name is John Watson”. He extended his hand, ready for a handshake.

Ignoring the hand, Sherlock raised John’s wand, using a charm to extinguish the fires that were lit on the table. He deftly caught a book bag and that green scarf as he summoned them from the corner, and then summoned a long dark wand from just the other side of the table.

“Is that-“ John asked, “is that your wand? Right there? Why did you need mine?”

Sliding the dark wand into his robes, the student turned towards John, ignoring his question but returning the other wand into his still-outstretched hand.

“Sherlock Holmes. Meet me in classroom 221B tomorrow evening.” the student said, then swept out of the room, colored smoke swirling in his wake.

John shook his head, and wondered what in the world he’d gotten himself into.


End file.
